


The Way You Look Tonight

by madvwolf



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1940s, Alternate Universe - Soldier!Martin, Alternate Universe - World War II, F/M, SOLDIER - Freeform, Soldier!Martin Freeman, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-01-11 05:30:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madvwolf/pseuds/madvwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chicago</p>
<p>Spring, 1942</p>
<p>Coming to America after the loss of his brother overseas, Martin had just hoped to escape from the madness around him for a while. Chicago seemed just as exciting as he imagined it would be when he was suddenly drafted the year before. When his daily plans included the enchanting young artist his best friend insisted on buying from, how could he help the feelings she stirred within him; feelings he didn't realize he could feel anymore. What was it about Alison that made things seem alright with Martin's world again? Could her love be enough to heal the wounds left inside from the tragedies he suffered at war? Only time could tell how such a fragile bond would stand under the strains of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

Chapter One

Spring 1944

****  
  


Alison stood back from the canvas, her hands placed firmly on her hips as she surveyed her work. The gentle curves which swirled miraculously into an emotion which she’d transferred onto the canvas seemed at odds with the singing coming from the bedroom across the hall. She laughed where she sat surrounded by her brushes and supplies in the living room when her best friend switched into a forced falsetto.

The windows of their 14th floor condominium were all opened, letting in the cool Spring air, which was as fresh as downtown Chicago would allow. The white linen drapes swayed gently with the wind, and the sounds of the busy afternoon city below sent a longing up Alison’s spine which she couldn’t quite place. Marissa’s voice sang out the last notes in a mock opera, her high soprano causing laughter to erupt from Alison and Marissa’s older sister, Evelyn.

The girls had been inseparable since their parents had moved into homes across from each other, and they had always been willing to help one another when the economic depression had hit some years earlier. As a result, the three had come to rely on each other as only sisters could understand.

“God, Alison,” Evie said softly as her eyes landed on the painting from where she had been reading on the sofa. She stood, placing her book face down before walking to stand beside where Alison sat on the floor. Marissa came to join her sister, her light eyes scanning the impressive work. “This is beautiful.”

Alison turned away and smiled to herself as she began to rinse out her brushes and replace the containers she’d opened on the shelf in what was agreed to be her supply closet. They were right; the painting

good. She knew that it was good, but it still didn’t stop her from flushing head-to-toe over the compliments.

Alison genuinely loved what she did for a living, but with the war, no one really had the motivation or finances to go to the modern city galleries where her work was currently displayed. As a result, she’d had to take what she could get, selling cheaper and cheaper lately until the option of going to work in one of the factories her mother worked at was as imminent as her elder brother’s draft had been.

Marissa returned to her room after a moment of quiet observation over the painting, knowing that Alison never replied to compliments. None of them did, and it was easier that way rather than to have a battle consisting solely of self-deprecation and ridiculous flattery. The tall blonde hummed along from the other room to the radio as she pinned her last piece of hair into place, getting ready for whatever it was she had planned tonight.

The current piece Alison had miraculously perfected in record time was going to a new buyer who lived just a few blocks away. She had insisted that the buyer wait until the next week to have it transported, but he was determined to have it in his loft the very next day, and in return she would receive her payment tonight rather than Friday, which was usually her collection date on all works she sold. She’d agreed simply because she needed the money, and needed it badly. She would have never told Marissa or Evie how tight things were for her, but it seemed that Alison’s options were becoming slimmer and slimmer by the hour. They would never turn her out, she knew, but Alison could never take charity from anyone.

Running her slim fingertips lightly through her Audrey-short chestnut hair, Alison used a clean enough area of her forearm to scratch her nose before wiping her paint-smeared hands on her rolled up khaki trousers. The outfit was the standard of her working clothes, and as she adjusted the handkerchief holding her short hair off of her face, she wondered idly whether she should change before the buyer arrived. She then thought better of it. If he was going to insist on picking it up tomorrow, then he could deal with her work clothes today.

Alison started in surprise as she heard Marissa squeal and turn up the radio. She ran into the living room just as “A String of Pearls” by that Miller man who was always putting out something new to dance to. Alison smiled, laughing at the blonde’s enthusiasm. The girl’s hair was finished and wrapped in a silk handkerchief much like her own. “C’mon, Evie, you gotta dance this time!” she stood by Evelyn who had returned to reading a novel on the couch. Or at least attempting.

With a dramatic sigh and a giggle, the girl stood and turned her book facedown, joining her sister in the uninhibited dance around the living space. Their childlike laughter mixed melodically with the music, and the sounds of the city below almost made Alison feel light enough to forget about all that was wrong with the world; all the horrors this war had brought on them all.

A knock resounded at the door, pulling her attention from the laughing girls who were now standing on the poor, ratty sofa. Alison shook her head with a smile and a sigh, wiping her hands with a dishcloth before crossing the small but clean kitchen to meet her most recent buyer.

~

Martin walked out of the lift and made his way down the hallway, looking for the right room.

“1301, 1301…” He stopped before the correct doorway, an eyebrow raised as he heard the music flowing underneath the doorjam. It was a song he’d never heard… but then again, he’d only been home for about 43 hours. It was all exhausting, but picking this up was the least he could do for Ben, considering all they’d been through together.

**_Go! Leave, God, go now!_**

The words pierced through his conscience clear as day, causing him to hesitate with his hand raised to knock. Martin pushed the scorching memory away, and tucked it neatly under a doormat as he cleared his throat and knocked.

There was a distinct click as the deadbolt unlocked from the other side of the doorway. It was pulled open only a fraction, and he was met with a striking pair of hazel eyes fringed with long, sooty lashes. Her dark hair was cropped short, the style perfectly framing her facial structure. Her perfect skin was dusted lightly with small, delicate freckles. There was a charming smudge of blue paint on the tip of her nose, but it was those eyes that drew him in. The soft glow they held reflected warmth, vitality. There was a certain longing that weighed heavy within his chest, but he couldn’t place the exact cause of the heat.

The girl on the other side of the doorway smiled slightly, pulling the door open wider to reveal her paint-stained clothing and bare feet, a fractional curvature of her lips which caused the knot in his chest to tighten.

 

“Hello,” she said, questioning over the music. “You’re here for the painting?”


	2. Two

The man on the other side of the door seemed to be having trouble articulating what he wanted to say, and Alison couldn't figure for the life of her why. Instead of waiting for a response, she opened the door widely, an invitation to come inside. He recovered, walking into the space with a quiet, "Thank you."

It was funny, because he looked a bit different than she imagined he would. In fact, she was positive that this was not the same man who'd ordered the painting at all, considering the way Marissa had described him. Aiming for subtlety, she reached out her hand, smiling. "Alison, Its incredibly nice to meet you." A slow smile made its way onto his face, amusement shining in his eyes. She noted the distinctive hazel tones which had seemed grey from farther away.

He reached out to her, his rough fingertips grazing her palm before he clasped her hand and shook it. His tone was light as he spoke. "Hello, Alison. I'm Martin, I'm here to deliver this from Ben. He said that he's terribly sorry he couldn't deliver it himself but he was rather busy." While he spoke, the his prominent accent made her smile. He let go of her hand and handed her the envelope she hadn't noticed he'd been holding. "It's really fine," she replied, anxious that she'd caused any extra trouble, but determined to not mention it.

Her guest's gaze turned towards the living room where the girls were now mock slow-dancing, laughing when Marissa nearly dropped Evelyn in a dramatic dip. The two broke apart, Marissa heading back to her room while Evie picked up her book and went to sit out on the balcony.

"My closest friends," she suddenly said, pulling his attention back to her from where he'd watched the display with an amused expression. "Are they visiting?" he asked, and those deep eyes searched hers as if he wished he'd find something vital.

"No-no, we all rent together." When she stuttered, it occurred that maybe she could climb to hide inside of the aga stove until he decided he was bored enough to leave. "We've known each other since birth, really." he pulled anxiously on his dark green B-Ten jacket. Alison's brother had worn the same one... and now it was hers. It was hanging in her closet. Before sadness could take hold, she guided her thoughts down a different path.

She wasn't really surprised that he had been at war. Nearly every man she knew had fought at some point, and from the headlines, the need for soldiers was doubled in Europe.

"How long have you been here?" she asked curiously. His eyes tightened warily, as if the subject bothered him in some way. "Two days." He was smiling again when he replied, but she could sense the tension her question had caused. "Oh. Welcome back. And thank you for the delivery." she motioned with the envelope as if to clarify her meaning. "Have a nice night" she forced out past the anxiety which always seemed as heavy as a knot in her chest. Embarrassed to have caused him discomfort, Alison crossed her arms unconsciously , walking farther into the apartment and allowing him the opportunity to leave. She stood in front of her work, eyes tracing over the strokes, the flaws, and made mental notes of what she should do differently the next time around.

When she turned around, she was rather surprised that he hadn't left. Instead he was looking at her with the oddest expression on his face. It wasn't in any way upset, but for some reason it made her feel flushed, but she held his stare with a smile. Their eyes were held, and the space between them was momentarily filled with an almost tangible friction. Alison felt drawn into his stare along with an emotion she hadn't felt since she left home years ago. It occurred to her for the first time that she was... attracted to this man who stood uncomfortably in her kitchen. Her mind suddenly raced to find a reason he would need to stay, but disappointingly came up blank.

"Um.... ah, yes. I'll let him know. Goodbye." He seemed to be momentarily confused as to how he should leave, but after a moment, he just nodded, and then he was gone.

Alison bit her lip nervously for a moment after the door had closed, trying to place the funny tingling in the pit of her stomach. It wasn't necessarily unpleasant, just... odd. Habitually running a hand through the front of her hair, Alison shook any thought of Hazel-grey eyes or gentle yet calloused fingertips from her mind. Things like that could drive a girl crazy if she let them.

Just as she fell, exhausted, onto the lounge sofa, Marissa came in wearing a knee length navy blue skirt (which she'd lucked out and bought just before the color was rationed due to the war) and a white button down, tucked seamlessly. Her legs were bare, something that Alison knew she detested, but they all had to sacrifice these days. She was fastening her pearl clip-ons when she sat on the armrest of the battered seat.

"Come with us, Alison. You're likely to go belly up if you don't get out once in a while. Let's go have some fun. Its good to get sauced every now and again." The girl pleaded, her green eyes practically begging her to join them. Alison knew that they worried about her, especially lately, but she just felt so melancholy that the idea of going out on the town. Not to mention the anxiety that large, crowded amounts of people caused her. Ever since her brother's death, she'd felt herself closing in, retreating into her art rather than socializing like the other girls her age.

Alison groaned and brought the back of her hand to her forehead. "Not tonight."

A moment later she sat up on her elbows, a quizzical expression on her face. "Didn't the black-and-whites show up at the Colonel last week anyways?" worry flooded her at the thought of her friends going to the well known club after the latest events transpiring there.

Evie decided to chime in then, powdering her porcelain features through the reflection of her ivory compact. "Yes, but we're not going to the Colonel tonight, darling. We're going to Folsom's tonight, they're having a band in from Boston." The anticipation was clear in the girls' voices as they chattered back and forth, Evie holding a pin in her mouth before readjusting it in her wavy pin-curled hair.

Any other night night this week, she might have been the first to join them. She loved to swing, to ease up with some carefree soldier who was in town for the weekend and be gone before he had time to develop any sort of flame. Tonight, she just felt rather exhausted by it all.

After assuring the girls one more time that she'd be just dandy on her own, they left with blown kisses, and she put the water-filled kettle on the aga. She pulled her special mug down from the shelf and set it on the small counter-top by the sink.

~

Martin walked through the drizzle which fell into busy Chicago streets, his mind swarming.

The woman-no, the girl, he forced himself to amend- wouldn't stop looking at him with wide, innocent eyes every time his thoughts wandered. She'd been exactly the sort of thing he needed to avoid. He was too hardened for any of that sort of thing. He'd only been out of the air for two days for God's sake. If he made any sort of effort to... befriend her...

Well, it wouldn't turn out very well for either of them, of that he was sure.

Still, as he made his was past the theaters and dance halls, part of Martin's chest ached. It was something he didn't feel very often given his line of duty, but after today, it was back with increased ardor. She was unlike anything he'd expected, given Ben's description. She's an artist, rather shy, not very talkative. She'll likely not even meet your eyes, so there are really no worries.

Right.

They were going to have a conversation very, very soon over this.

Hell, she was unlike anything he'd ever even experienced. If he'd been asked to paint the portrait of the ideal American female, she was what he would have described. Something about the way she moved... Her confidence, the freedom with which she conducted her speech, every aspect of the girl was unlike any individual Martin had ever met.

His mind was ripped back to the present as he passed a group of drunken twenty-somethings laughing too loud. The girls' faces were heated from the liquor they'd imbibed in, their mascara smeared, leaving them with the distinct air of being unclean. They stumbled beside a pair of soldiers who were obviously home for the weekend down the street, whose eyes hungrily clung to the girls' bodies, ignoring their obnoxious laughter. The sight wasn't an uncommon one, in America or London, for that matter. In fact, now that he paid attention, there were groups of the same all along the strip where he walked. Tonight, though, it disturbed him, and he couldn't exactly point out why.

Focusing his eyes back on the concrete sidewalks, tuning out the jovial music and excited voices, Martin's mind wandered back to the beautiful girl in the bright, cool apartment. He wondered where she was, what she was doing. He couldn't really imagine her in the place of any of the women he passed, especially on this side of town. She was so incredibly bright, so fresh. She didn't seem to belong in Chicago, with her bare feet and paint stained trousers. She belonged in fields. She belonged in fields of flowers, with a smile and the sunshine warming the freckles across her nose.

No. No, it wouldn't do any good to think of her any longer. After he retrieved the painting with Benedict tomorrow, he would likely never see her again.

Strange, how the hollow ache in his chest chose to return at the most inopportune times.

 

When he finally arrived back at his own building, Martin was nearly soaked from the rain which had grown heavier throughout his walk. He hung his worn jacket on the hook of the coat rack and slipped out of the his shoes, pulling his sweater over his head to leave him in the same sort of cotton undershirt he'd worn every day for the past two years of active duty.

Some things would never change, he thought grimly.

The exhausted man headed to the kitchen in the back of the empty, rented townhouse to make a pot of tea. The place was rather empty, given the fact that he'd just moved in the previous day. It was on a decent side of town, and right next door to the one Ben had lived in for the years prior to the war.

He frowned when he saw the steaming kettle on the stove, and Martin's head snapped towards the den where he heard the distinct sound of a tea cup being set back on a saucer.

Benedict. It had to be Ben.

Why he was inside of the house was no matter.

There were much more important issues the man had to explain for himself.

Issues of the Beautiful, hazel eyed, bright-smiling sort.


	3. Chapter Three

"ALISON"

 

The voice was whispered hoarsely, urgently. Alison's eyes snapped open, the blurry figure of Marissa sitting inches from her on the bed. She rolled over immediately, grasping for her glasses on the side-table next to her bed. "What? What's going on?" her voice was still hoarse from sleep.

"Alison, they're here." 

Alison bolted upright in bed. Across the room, her reflection in the mirror above her dresser caused her to groan.

"No, no, no." her bare feet hit the floor as she rushed to the closet, grabbing some haphazardly discarded capris from the floor and a red flannel shirt from over the closet door. "How long have they been here?" the urgency in her voice was clear to Marissa as the blonde peeked through the crack of the doorway which led into the living room.

"Just for a little while. They're drinking tea with Evie."

Alison pushed her hair down, flattening the mess against her head. "Close enough." she muttered to herself in the mirror before she swung open the door, stepping into the living room. Seated on the couch with their backs to her were the very different figures of the man she had met the day before and who she guessed to be her patron. At the sound of the door closing behind her, the two men set their cups down and stood hurriedly.

 

Martin heard the door close behind him and set the china on the table in time with Ben. He'd not slept at all during the night, instead opting to stay awake with Benedict, smoking cigars and attempting to push memories behind an easily locked door. 

Something clenched inside of his chest as his eyes met Alison's in the brightly lit living area. She was wearing red, her hair still a bit mussed from sleep, and her skin was glowing with rest. Her smile was radiant as she shook Ben's hand. Martin didn't catch her words until she had asked him how his night was.

"Oh, it was wonderful." he found the words to reply with a small but genuine smile. She captivated him. The way her eyes widened as she laughed. The graceful way she moved the hair from her eyes with delicate fingertips. It passed before his mind to ask what her plans for the day were, but he shied away from the thought. Before he had a chance to speak with her again, he was helping Ben carry the piece down the stairs and strapped onto the top of Ben's inherited Ford.

They all trekked back up tto the apartment and sat around the kitchen while Marissa and Ben insisted on cooking breakfast, their heads bent conspiratorially over a cutting board by the sink. Evelyn had left to go shop for groceries with some of the other ladies in the apartment complex, mostly young widows who sought comfort in numbers.

Martin sat beside Alison on the couch, asking her about the gallery her work was displayed in. Her eyes lit up whenever she spoke about her work, her art. It was something he wanted to inspire every time he asked her anything, and so he studied her reactions to everything he said, beaming internally each time she would laugh at a joke, even if they were her own.

"Martin, wasn't there some singer downtown tonight you wanted to hear?" Ben's words stilled all motion in the room, and suddenly 3 pairs of eyes were on Martin. 

No. Oh god, no. Benedict, stop it now.

 

Panic flooded through Martin. He knew where this was going, and he assumed everyone else in the room did as well. He thought he had scared Ben into giving up on this ridiculous matchmaking quest the night before, but apparently he was wrong. "Um, no I believe it was last night." Martin stared daggers in Benedict's direction, who of course feigned innocence, denying any such thing. "No, no it was tonight!" he looked between the two ladies present, beaming at the one of which Martin was most interested. "You two must accompany us. Martin's been going on about it since a week before we came back. You two have to come with us. It's going to be at the Ralston."

Alison's hazel eyes flashed to Martin's, her expression dazzling the man beyond the ability to say anything but, "You should. I mean.. that is..." he cleared his throat in what he hoped was a masculine fashion, "If you'd like."

The smile she gave him sent a wave of awareness across the space between them, and Martin found himself wishing the other two occupants of the room would depart so he could pull this woman into his lap, and kiss her for all he was worth. 

Alison stood suddenly, reaching towards the ceiling in a lazy stretch before she clasped her hands in front of her and beamed at Ben. "If Marissa wants to, then I'm crazy for the idea. There's really nothing to do around here anyways." she smiled briefly at Martin, that same intimate smile which caused his chest to heat like the furnace of a steam engine.

As it was decided that they'd all meet up that night at 6 in the lobby, Marissa walked Benedict to the elevator at the end of the hallway as Martin stayed behind, standing with Alison for just another moment.

"You sure you wouldn't mind, Mr. Freeman?" Alison asked as he was shrugging on his bomber jacket. She was close enough that he could smell the floral jasmine scent of the detergent she'd used on her clothes. Her nearness caused electricity to spark between them as their eyes stayed locked, a breath caught in Alison's throat against the desire this man evoked within her. The formality in the address she had used burned a bit, but Martin didn't let him take his eyes away from hers as he spoke, his voice low. The words left his lips, and he couldn't help himself as he reached forward, trailing his fingertips lightly from her elbow to the tip of her index finger. The touch sent a trail of fire through the brunette, and her entire being desired just to be closer to this man, this stranger whom she barely knew.

"I'd love it if you'd join me, Miss Spengler. But you have to agree that I'm just Martin to you."

And with that, he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

The french doors of Alison's bedroom opening out onto the terrace had been pushed open, allowing the breeze to blow through the space. The white curtains danced, ruffled by the wind, and the radio added the soundtrack to all three girls' banter. The weather was perfection, and even with the sounds of the city below, the entire afternoon had felt like a dream.

Evelyn had returned home about an hour after the men had left, and upon hearing about the planned evening, the sisters had then taken to giggling over the endless possibilities the night proposed.

"What are you going to say when he asks you to dance?" Evie asked with a comical wiggle of her eyebrows. Marissa cut in dramatically with a flair of her hand and batting eyelashes, her voice ridiculously high pitched. "Why, Martin. I've dreamed of nothing else! I tossed to and fro all night as the idea of such a possibility!" the blonde swooned onto the chair in the corner and Alison laughed, the thought making her blush. "You mean if he asks me to dance." she turned back to her dresser, fastening her pearl earrings in place. "You're forgetting that I hardly know the man." She rolled her eyes, but continued beaming. It was going to be perfect to escape for a night.

"Pfft. He couldn't take his eyes off you!" Marissa began, flopping onto Alison's bed next to Evie. The eldest sister had been ready for no less than thirty minutes, her excitement eating her alive. Her blonde hair was pinned up and back away from her face, the style drawing attention to her wide blue eyes. "I'm personally just glad you're coming out with us. It will be nice for you to get out. You work all the time." she pouted to herself, her feet crossed at the ankles in the air behind her while she thumbed through the newest Macy's catalogue.

"I know." Alison replied lamely, reaching down to fasten the clasps on her heels as the other girls chattered. She knew she worked all the time, but it was better to be constantly busy than to dwell on the lacking department as far as men were concerned, or the war which hung over all of their heads. Alison's work meant more to her than anything. Joy was something that not many of them felt anymore, with danger on the horizon, and her work brought emotion, brought life back into people. It was her own contribution to society, one which she could entirely control. As far as men went... well, it was almost as if the ones she had come in contact with were afraid of her. They were all intimidated by her, and Alison guessed she could understand. She was one of the only women she knew who was actively pursuing her own career, who had her own hopes and dreams outside of being a merry housewife. The American dream of being a home-maker didn't appeal to her in the least. Alison longed for adventure. She longed to travel, and to make something of her life. It was a rare thing, and most men didn't want to take the trouble of roping in a girl with a brain in her head.

Alison looked into the mirror and sighed, running a hand through her chestnut hair. Her eyes were the same as they'd always been, green and gold. The powder she'd used across the bridge of her nose, her cheeks, glowed slightly in the light of the setting sun. Her dark blue dress was A-Lined and perfectly fit the style all of the girls wore now. The sleeveless piece curved into a sweetheart neckline, and instead of the strand of pearls her friends all wore, she instead wore a delicate silver chain with a teardrop pearl pendant at the base. She looked pretty. She felt pretty.

A glance outside told her the sun had finally set. 

"Alright. Now, where are we meeting them again?"

~

Martin stood with Benedict, his hands in the pockets of his trousers as he rocked back and forth onto the balls of his feet. "Maybe they've changed their minds.." he muttered under his breath, gaining a chuckle from Ben.

"Not a chance. I can promise that they won't miss it." Benedict replied, finding extreme humor in how nervous his famously put together friend was behaving. Martin glanced up, ready to make a snappy comment when Ben raised his arm, waving with a thousand watt smile. 

"Girls!!" he shouted, and Martin followed his gaze to where Alison and Marissa walked along the sidewalk.

She took his breath away. Her dress was nothing short of stunning, as well as the delicate pearl earrings she wore, but none of this is what truly captured his attention. 

It was the way she glowed beneath the lights of the city, the light reflecting off of her skin, making her look ridiculously touchable, and entirely too delicious. Her eyes met his and warmed, her lips curling into a grin he was positive she couldn't know was seductive.

"Hi," she said shyly as she approached him, and he glanced to see Marissa and Ben already heading inside, his friend's arm wrapped around the blonde's shoulder as she laughed at something he whispered into her ear.

"You look... absolutely stunning." Martin said as he met her eyes once again, the awe apparent in his voice. Alison laughed, her face blushing as she smiled at him. "Well, I hope that means you'll oblige me with a dance?" she asked, pulling a bright smile from him, one of the many he'd found around her that for once in the past four years, he didn't have to force.

It had been so long...

He offered her his arm, and led her into the music hall where the voice of the jazz singer echoed off the walls, and the band played loudly, enticing the couples to come take a spin on the dance floor. Barely anyone was sitting down, and Alison seemed determined to keep that effect up.

Martin guided her immediately onto the floor, pulling her in with his hand slipped around her waist, the other clasping her own as they moved in time with the music. His lead was fantastic, and it was obvious to her that he knew what he was doing. 

Having her in such close proximity did strange things to his vision, and the entire room seemed to find a focal point at where he held her in his arms. Her hand rested on his shoulder brought a feeling of pride to him, knowing he was dancing with the most beautiful girl in the city of chicago that night.

More importantly, she wanted to dance with him.   
The feeling was staggering, and left him feeling 70 feet tall. She was wearing that jasmine perfume again, the kind that made him want to bring his face to her neck, to inhale her, to lay her down and-

"Where'd you learn to dance so well?" she asked with a smile, ripping him from his thoughts.

"It's a requirement for the airforce." he replied dryly, the small smile on his lips turning into a full out grin as she threw her head back with laughter. "I can imagine!" she replied, her eyes bright with mirth. "I'm guessing the same goes for being well dressed?" Martin smiled as he realized she was telling him that she liked his clothing.

Get it together... something in the back of his mind warned, She's too good for someone like you. Too soft. You're not good enough for someone as young and beautiful as her... not good enough to-

 

"Well, regardless of the reason, I'm thankful." she interrupted his dark thoughts for the second time, and it occured to him that he could use that a bit more often in his life. "And why is that?" he lowered his voice, drawing her a bit closer in, bringing their faces closer together. 

The close proxmity mixed up Alison's thoughts, and all she could think of was how close he was, and how nice he smelled. "Um..." she muttered, not really committed to a reply, let alone able to form one. The thought in the front of her mind was how close to safe she felt in this moment. He held her firmly, his hand holding her against his body as he moved them around the floor. The warmth of his body seeped through his fitted sport coat, warming her from the outside in. The rich smell of his cologne at this distance was heady, and all she wanted to do was lean in, just a bit closer, closer than she would have originally thought possible. 

Then he was. His lips began an agonizingly slow descent until-

"Martin!!" a voice sliced through the intimacy of the moment, and she started, but he simply sighed, turning as his face washed of all chagrin into a mask of shock. He dropped her hand, but kept one on her back in a show of possesion as his expression changed to a brilliant smile. "Scott!" he shouted with equal enthusiasm, "Andrew, is that you?" he asked with delight, letting go of her momentairly to slap the other man on the back. The familiarty between them made it obvious that they had served together. 

"Forgive me, I'm being terribly rude, this is Alison. She agreed to come with me tonight to hear Ella sing." Martin returned his hand to the small of her back, and Alison smiled at the addition to their small group, studying the handsome man as the two men caught up with one another. His hair was dark as well as his eyes, fringed with dark lashes and an almost wicked smile. His eyes flashed back and forth between Martin and Alison, and she smiled politely whenever their eyes met. 

"Are you here with a date?" Martin asked, his forehead creased with curiosity. 

"No, just me tonight. Heard Ella was singing and figured I'd stop by on my way to visit Benedict. You remember Ben? I had no clue he was living in the states until I found out from an old buddy over in the Big Apple." 

"Yes, we're actually renting in together while here." Martin replied, his eyes lit with the happiness of meeting someone familiar. "You should stay a while have a drink! I'm sure there's room at our table for one more. Ben's actually here right now..." Martin looked around for his friend, missing the way Alison watched him, and the way Andrew was watching Alison. 

"Yes, I think I might hang around for a bit," Andrew said, almost to himself as he eyed the gorgeous brunette at his comrade's side.


End file.
